Page 47 of Petrichor

Luca is still standing, unmoved, staring unseeingly at the knife sticking out the guy. I lay a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “Soon, brother. You won’t have to keep holding the beast within much longer.”

He grunts. “After all these years, I didn’t tame the beast within, Marco, I became one with it.”

Fuck. I’m glad he’ll be on our side, then. Luca turns into the fucking bogeyman when he starts fighting—unstoppable. The war between our families is imminent. We need to get fucking ready for the bloodshed.

I remove my gold knuckles and toss them in the deep square sink. One of Luca’s men starts cleaning them as I grab a cigarette and light it with my bloody hand.

“Put the body in the cold room on the left and clean the mess on the floor,” I instruct Jeff and Vincent, Luca’s crew, since he seems to need a couple more minutes.

“We need to make a plan. We don’t have much time if the marriage is really next month,” Luca snarls.

“Pretty sure Seb already put something in motion. You know how he is. Always three steps ahead of everybody.”

I hear the beep of an incoming text as I step on the cigarette butt. After washing my hands, I grab my phone.

Pretty Butterfly

What do you want to eat tonight?

Luca’s looming shadow appears from behind me. The enraged vibe barely contained.

“You look absent these days. Always lost in your head. Is the wife the reason?” Luca taunts me.

I elbow him as I slide the cell back inside my pocket without replying.

“Che cazzo vuoi dire, Luca?”

“What I mean? Make a damn choice, you prick. You’re fucking distracted, and we can’t afford it!” he clips.

Fuck him! Family always come fucking first for me.

I grab the lapels of his jacket and yank him toward me. He’s bigger, but I know all his weak points. “You want me to make a choice? I’ll make a fucking choice!”

I let him go. As I angrily walk toward the door, I hear him mutter, “Dumb fucker!”

I exit the warehouse and get inside the Ford, ordering Carlo to take me to a bar.

“A bar, sir?” He seems confused since I’ve been going straight home every night the past week.

“Do I fucking need to repeat myself?” I let out a pissed-off grunt as the car starts moving.

Three hours later, I open the penthouse door and let the woman enter before me. She’s exactly the type I go for—easy, no-name exchange, and aware of the score. From the way she stuck her tongue in my throat in the elevator and rubbed her pussy on my cock, I can tell she’s exactly what I was looking for tonight. She picked me up at the bar, and we got a few drinks before I told her to come over.

She’s gorgeous and yet, I don’t feel even a flicker of attraction, my cock is completely uninterested. It’s starting to unsettle me. I’ve never had a problem with my sex drive. Never been picky. I’m a healthy man in my fucking prime. So why is my body acting like I don’t have an objectively sexy woman who wants to be fucked in front of me?

She takes a few steps into the living room and looks around with wide eyes. I fucking hate to have her here, but I brought her fora reason. Her gaze stops on Fly sitting on the sofa, phone in hand.

He looks at her then at me, his usual welcoming smile nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, is this your little brother?” she asks, letting her eyes slide all over Fly’s long bare legs, tight shorts, and loose shirt. My shirt. I grit my teeth. “You’re cute. Your eyes are…amazing,” she adds. I don’t want them to talk.

“Not his brother,” I hear Fly’s flat reply, as I take off my jacket and set it on the armchair’s back. I can feel those glacial blue eyes on me, but I ignore him, focusing my attention on her. The purple dress she’s wearing is tight, showing her curves—round hips, heavy breasts, and a nice plump ass.

She smiles seductively at me as she catches me looking at her, and placing her hands on my pecs, she whispers loud enough for Fly to hear. “If he wants to be part of the fun tonight, I’m up for it.”

Anger burns inside my guts at the thought. “I don’t fucking share,” I hiss, and as I utter the words I realize that they are referring to Fly. I don’t want her red-polished hands touching his pale skin. Her lips sucking his. Their bodies rubbing together.

His shocked gasp reverberates inside the room, and it almost makes me falter. But a glance to my damn bracelet with the spent bullet pendant and the renewed awareness of my line of thought reinforce my determination.

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